


Number Five

by jugemjugem



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-21 08:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugemjugem/pseuds/jugemjugem
Summary: A series of Five-centered one shots with The Umbrella Academy playlist as inspiration.Ch 1: Kill Of The Night - The Handler takes care of FiveCh2: Dancing In The Moonlight - Five is happy





	1. Kill Of The Night

**Author's Note:**

> The one-shots will not be connected in any way. 
> 
> I got the idea for the first chapter from my friend who said that there seems to be sexual tension between Five and The Handler. That cracked me up but also it seemed like an interesting plot point so I figured, why not?

The Handler loved her job. She loved people and loved, too, their ability to baffle the universe. Sitting on her desk, overseeing the entire course of humanity made her feel like a god. She is, of course, simply a cog in a machine but that machine is god and she is a part of it. Humans, for all their illusions of free will, were her puppets and she loved them so, _so_ much.

She didn’t want to play favorites but she especially loved the ones who messed with the timeline. They were always so unaware of their power, their importance in the grand scheme of things, and that naiveté made her love them even more. Five was different in that out of everyone in the entire planet, he was the one most likely to cause disastrous changes in the timeline owing to his unique ability to jump through time even without Commission-sponsored tools and yet has not done so in the years that he spent in his own timeline and in the apocalyptic wasteland. Every day The Handler watched him trying to survive, half-expecting him to do something unexpected. The Handler had grown fond of Five and wanted to be the one to personally kill him when the time comes.

The time did come.

Five broke his contract and was actively trying to stop the apocalypse from occurring. The Handler grew excited. She didn’t expect Five to be a sentimentalist. How lovely! Humans truly are unpredictable and she loved them even more.

“Hello, Five.”

The Handler smiled at him. It was a surprise to see him so young. She never would have recognized him if it weren’t for the reports by her field agents and the glare plastered on his face that was still somehow very reminiscent of his older features.

“I didn’t think you would personally come to see me. Aren’t you busy?” Five smiled thinly, poorly concealed anger still visible in his eyes.

“Oh, I _am_ very busy, Five. You’ve given us quite a headache at the head office. Losing our most talented agent has crippled us, if you must know.”

Five did not reply. The Handler wasn’t here for a simple chat. He knew first-hand what happens to people who are a threat to the timeline and he wasn’t exactly being subtle about his attempts at stopping the apocalypse. The explosion at Meritech was not a coincidence. The Commission knows and they _will_ kill him for it. The only question was why would The Handler herself be here?

He didn’t want to think about it but The Handler is dangerous. Although he was fairly confident in his abilities, he didn’t quite know the full extent of The Handler’s skills. All he knows is that she didn’t arrive at her position for nothing.

“Let’s have a drink, shall we? I have only been to this time twice,” The Handler said, walking forward, her heels clicking against the ground, “Once when I had my first assignment and then another time when I felt like reminiscing about my first assignment. If you’d like, I can show you how I did it. It made me quite a legend back at the head office.”

Five walked a few steps behind her. He knew he should make a run for it but it was probably best not to anger The Handler from the get-go. He would go along with her and then figure out a plan along the way. It will be fine, he assured himself while taking a deep breath.

They walked in relative silence with only The Handler’s intermittent comments about how a particular place has changed and the clicking of her heels breaking it. Five walked stiffly, constantly looking for a chance to make his escape. The slightest shift of his heel, the minutest turn of his abdomen, was enough for The Handler to cast him a meaningful sideways glance, her eyes akin to a thousand hands holding him down. She stopped in front of a dingy bar bearing only a sign that said “Open”. They entered and situated themselves on the farthest corner of the dark establishment.

“These are prime seats, Five. We have 15 minutes before I arrive.”

Five glared at her. The Handler loved that look on him and it thrilled her to see him practically seething with hatred. Oh, how she wanted to prolong this little game they had! Alas, she must kill him eventually. Not that that broke her heart. On the contrary, she was looking forward to it but she did also enjoy teasing him.

“What do you want? I’m not interested in whatever offer you have. I’m done.”

The Handler laughed, “Offer? You’re awfully conceited, Five! You were a valuable asset to us but do you really think a cog that could harm the entire operation of the machine would be allowed to still exist? I’m here to kill you, Five. There is no offer.”

Five stood up, ready to defend himself.

“Don’t be silly. Sit down. I promised to show you my first assignment.” The Handler called out to the barkeeper for margaritas.

Five sat down warily. He supposed he was curious about how The Handler gained her notoriety. He was, after all, confident in his speed of reaction should she try anything funny.

“There’s a good boy,” The Handler smirked at Five’s icy look

“You have the chance to save billions of people. You could help stop the apocalypse.”

“You are thinking about this backwards, Five. The apocalypse _must_ happen to save humanity. There is nothing you can do about it. What must happen, must happen or as I like to say it, que será, será.”

“It’s bullshit in any language,” Five hissed, hitting the table with force.

A guy bought them their drinks, eyeing Five suspiciously. He looked at The Handler and shrugged. It wasn’t his problem if some lady allowed her kid to drink alcohol. Business is business. He cast one last look at Five and shrugged again as Five glared at him.

“You surprise me, Five. I would love to discuss determinism and free will with you but the show is about to begin.” The Handler took a sip of her drink and pushed Five’s drink towards him. She directed her attention to a table to their left. Five looked in the same direction and saw a man drape his jacket on the back of the chair. There was nothing striking about him – average height, average weight, glasses, aging and tired-looking. Often it was people like him – regular, unremarkable people – who became target for corrections.

Five likewise took a sip of his drink. Agents were encouraged to perform their corrections discreetly so as not to draw attention to the commission. Although it wasn’t a hard and fast rule as experienced agents often added their own flare to build their own “brand” and because some assignments, especially on high-profile targets, were impossible to do outside the public eye, most of the new agents, understandably, did follow this rule. Five doubted The Handler would murder this man in front of eye-witnesses.

The man ordered his drink. He looked around the bar without interest.

“I never knew what made him a target for correction. I didn’t check his file and even after all these years, I never did. I liked not knowing,” The Handler whispered.

A young woman entered the bar. One look was enough to tell Five that this was The Handler when she was younger. Apart from her hair (which was a black bob) and her younger features, the way she carried herself hasn’t changed at all. She exuded a calm confidence that Five noted with bitterness. The younger Handler sat down on the chair in front of the target. He looked at her and seemed pleasantly surprised that such a young woman would give him the time of day. She ordered a drink and said something inaudible that made the man laugh nervously.

“He was pathetic. He just got promoted and he actually believed things were looking up for him.” The Handler once again whispered. She has been tapping her finger at a steady rhythm since the man’s drink arrived and it was driving Five mad. He could feel his heart pound in his chest almost, but not quite, to the beat of her tapping. If this was psychological manipulation on her part, he thought it was cheap and only succeeded to annoy him.

“You were always my favorite, Five, did you know that?” Five looked at The Handler. “I shouldn’t play favorites, of course, but I did like you very much. Still do, in fact, or I wouldn’t be doing this now.”

The Handler averted her gaze from the show to look at Five with a malicious smile. What was she getting at? Five didn’t understand her. She was still tapping her finger and his head was pounding along with it. He could feel a knotting in his stomach that was slowly tightening and tightening until he could barely sit up straight. He brought his hand up to his mouth, barely suppressing a wave of nausea.

“What’s wrong, Five?”

“What the fuck did you do?” Five asked weakly as he saw in his peripheral vision the man keeled over his drink.

“You had so much potential, Five. You just didn’t love humans as much as I did.”

The Handler stood up and smiled at Five. He looked up at her with eyes watering yet still somehow able to express the extent of his anger. She loved him so much. She loved humans so, _so_ much.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the ending of the series implies that the rules of TUA-universe time travel is different from how it is depicted in this chapter (since they turn into kids at the end of the show?) but the physics of that seem less believable (inasmuch as time travel physics can be believable)


	2. Dancing In The Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five is happy

There were days when Five wasn’t completely inebriated. Alcohol was the only thing that kept a lid on his heart and on days when he was trying to ration his meager supply, the numbness would dissipate. He would feel everything, at first in tiny ripples, then in sweeping crashes.

Fear crept up the fastest, starting in his stomach, rising up his throat until he felt nauseous and light-headed. He didn’t know fear until he arrived in the apocalypse. His entire childhood consisted of fighting criminals who couldn’t touch him and he relished in this superiority over others. He didn’t fear training because he was smarter than all his siblings – he could never lose to them. He didn’t fear his father because he knew that Reginald was just another powerless human who thought he had control over him when in reality, Five was the one controlling _him_ – bidding his time, learning everything the old man had to teach him before he decides he has learned it all and it’s time to leave. The apocalypse was different. It yielded to no one and only in Five’s most sober moments did this hit home.

His days of sobriety always ended with him on the ground, nursing a darkness in his mind that wouldn’t leave until he decides to fuck rationing and consume whatever alcohol he had on hand. Tomorrow’s ration would be a problem for tomorrow’s him. Except this time, he’s all out.

Sharp rocks dug through his back and he could feel ants crawling across his right arm. He dug through his pocket – the eyeball, his only clue to what caused the apocalypse, and a knife, his only escape to the apocalypse. He kept both of this items with him at all times, within reach, a ready reminder that he could fight for his life or take it away. The choice was his to make.

“Isn’t it a wonderful night, Delores?” Five intoned, looking up at the sky. He noticed for the first time in his life that the stars were now visible in the night sky. Now that the cities were dead, the stars had free reign and they shone in a way that Five only saw in movies or pictures from encyclopedias. He was too busy trying to survive, looking down, looking ahead, never up, that he didn't notice. 

It suddenly occurred to him that his life is meaningless. Whether he survives this apocalypse or not doesn’t matter – no one would congratulate him at the finish line or berate him if he gave up and slit his own quivering throat. And what of his plans to return to his family? It didn’t matter. He could figure out the equation, go back home and save the world, but his life would still remain meaningless. His family’s lives were just as meaningless, just another way for the universe to pass time until it moved on to create another meaningless consciousness in an arbitrary point in space. They could die now; they could die later – it simply didn’t matter.

Five laughed. He laughed until his sides hurt, laughed until he was out of breath and tears were on his eyes. He had never laughed like this his entire life and it was ironic that the freest he has ever felt is in this end-of-the-world wasteland.

“Delores! Oh, this is wonderful! Life is meaningless yet I am incapable of letting go of it!”

Five picked up Delores, gently placing a hand on her waist and held her other hand. He swayed to a music that only he, in his euphoric state, could hear. It was gentle but quick, a melody that he tried to look for when he got back to the present time but which he never found. He didn’t know how to dance and he laughed joyously as Delores berated him for his clumsy feet and his wide turns. His steps were rough and he tripped over his own feet on more than one occasion, laughing every time he caught himself just in time.

“This is the best day of my life, Delores. Life is meaningless but I must keep on living. There is no other way!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm not familiar with the physics of the moon suddenly disappearing. I'm not sure how that would affect the night sky but, eh. Hope you guys enjoyed this. I wanted Five to be happy but I am incapable of writing anything without a touch of angst.


End file.
